


honey (whiskey is disgusting)

by oh_no_oh_dear



Series: tungle dot hell [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, First Time, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, New Years, don't drink and fuck kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 18:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10471257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_no_oh_dear/pseuds/oh_no_oh_dear
Summary: Prompt: Sam/Steve + "honey... because they're so good!"





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was definitely not inspired by the repulsive cheapo honey whiskey that has been sitting on my counter for months.
> 
> Also, apologies to Brampton and the CBC for poking fun. It's all done in love! Or something!

  
  
    “It’s all they had left.” Sam crossed his arms, defensive.   
  
    “And whose idea was it to wait until the last minute to get liquor?”  
  
    “And _whose_  fault was it that we were on mission until the last minute?”  
  
    “Fuckin’ _Ross,_  that’s who,” Steve muttered, heaving a sigh as he surveyed the sad selection of snacks and booze that he and Sam had managed to procure on December 31st at 7 in the evening. Most stores were cleared out, people stocking up for their New Year’s Eve parties.   
“Okay... forget it. I’m just glad we have something to eat,” he amended, smiling a little. Sam looked slightly less mulish and flopped onto his hotel bed.   
  
    “I gotta tell you, I didn’t predict spending the new year in a shitty motel in -- where are we?”  
  
    “Brampton, Ontario.”  
  
    “Canada. What are we doing in Canada, Steve?” Sam moodily picked up a pack of Starburst, tugging at the thick wrapping.  
  
    “Well, Alpha Flight had a situatio--”  
  
    “ _It-was-rhetorical-I-know-why-we’re-here-we- **just** -finished-the-damn-mission_,” Sam snapped. Steve grinned wanly as he nudged his glasses up his nose, knowing that Sam was just irritable because of the alcohol situation.  
  
    “I mean... _honey whiskey,”_ Sam muttered.  
  
    “Wanna open one? A toast to my first ever serum-free mission?” Steve’s voice caught a little, but his smile was genuine. Ever since the incident that had stripped him of his powers, Steve had had to work hard to earn his spot running missions along Sam again.  
  
On the plus side, he could get drunk again.  
  
Sam was watching him closely, sucking on a pink Starburst. “Yeah, okay,” he said thickly around the candy.  
  
Steve busied himself opening the whiskey and pouring a healthy measure into two styrofoam cups while Sam fiddled with his phone, looking for music to play. (They’d already tried the television. Whatever ‘CBC’ was, it fucking _sucked._ )  
  
    “Classy,” Sam grinned when Steve pressed his drink into his hand. “All right, well... here’s to a good first mission with your new and improved bony ass.”  
  
Steve choked on his drink -- partially from laughing at what Sam had said, partially because the whiskey was _gross_ , sickly sweet and cloying. Sam made a face as he swallowed his own drink, his expression mirroring Steve’s.  
  
    “Told you, Rogers. This shit is disgusting.”  
  
    “Yeah, no kiddin’,” Steve muttered. He paused. “Want another?”  
  
    “......yeah, okay.”  
  


* * *

  
    “ _Naaaaah nah nah_ , if you wan’ set the mood, you play **[this](https://youtu.be/C_gpe26YBOY?t=58) ** kinda stuff,” Sam said, gesturing his phone. A woman’s sultry voice snaked from the tiny speakers, seeming to fill the small hotel room. 

  
    “I gotta take your word for it,” Steve guffawed. “Stuff I’d’ve used is-- what-- oldies now?” He paused thoughtfully, his cheeks pink from the alcohol. Well. Partially from the alcohol. “Not that I... not that I really had any ladies to set the mood _for_. Fellas, yeah, but--”  
  
Sam’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t comment on this revelation. Steve, however, had different ideas.  
“Never told anybody that. Huh.”  
  
    “Did you want to? Tell people?”  
  
    “No... well... not everybody.”  
  
    “Worried it’d taint your reputation?” Sam grinned, taking another swig of whiskey. They’d long stopped caring about the sickening taste, focusing instead on its effect. Steve was thrilled to be able to feel the buzz of alcohol again, and it had loosened his tongue considerably.  
  
    “Taint my reputation? As what?”  
  
Sam bit the inside of his cheeks, trying not to laugh. Steve noticed, and his eyes narrowed.  
“Sam, taint my reputation?”  
  
    “Weeeeeeeellllllll,” Sam drawled, turning to look at Steve, “people have this kind of. Idea. That you’re, y’know. A virgin.”  
  
Steve blinked a few times. “Oh.”  
  
    “Just, ‘oh’?”  
  
    “Well, geeze, you made it sound like it was somethin’ _bad_. Nothin’ wrong with virgins.”  
  
    “Course not. I didn’t mean--”  
  
    “Oh I know _you_ didn’t mean, Sam. But nah, ‘course I’m not.”  
  
    “You’re-- what? Not?”  
  
    “Nah, not for ages. Doubt they put that in the history books, though. ‘Steve Rogers liked baseball, painting, and fuckin’ men twice his size.’ Not ‘xactly family-friendly.”  
  
Sam’s eyes widened ever so slightly. This _definitely_ hadn’t been the way he’d seen the conversation going, but he couldn’t ignore the uptick in his heartbeat. Steve liked to... hmmmm.  
  
    “How ‘bout you, Sam?”  
  
    “Me?”  
  
    “Yeah, we’re spillin’ all the secrets tonight, ain’t we?” Steve looked intensely interested, his glasses long discarded on the bedside table. His blue eyes were dark, half-lidded as he gazed at Sam. Sam felt himself blushing furiously.  
  
    “Uhhhhh.”  
  
    “Shit, sorry-- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable...”  
  
    “No, it’s fine. I just. Not-- I guess I am? Uh. With men. I’ve never-- yeah. No.”  
  
Steve rested his chin on his hands, humming thoughtfully.  
  
    “Okay. Nothin’ wrong with that,” he teased, winking. Sam huffed out an embarrassed laugh.  
  
    “Almost -- I almost kissed Riley once. I, uh... wanted to.”  
  
    “Yeah?”  
  
    “Yeah.”  
  
    “Still want to try?”  
  
No one had ever accused Steve Rogers of being a coward. Sam found he’d been more than half hoping to get such an invitation, because he was nodding vigorously, putting his drink aside. The closeness of their bodies, the soft mood music, the way that Steve tended to bite his lip when he looked at Sam-- a lot of things slotted neatly into place in an instant. _Oh. Ohhhh._  
  
    “Look, we’re both... pretty wasted, so-- just a kiss. Okay?” Steve was saying, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Sam nodded, heart pounding.  
  
    “If this doesn’t, uhm, if I don’t like--”  
  
    “We’ll stop. Are you sure you want to...?”  
  
Sam leaned forward, his lips slightly parted, and Steve could see the flush of red under his brown skin, across his high cheekbones. His eyes were dark as rich earth, framed by thick curling lashes. Sam had never looked more beautiful.  
  
Steve pressed a cautious kiss to Sam’s warm lips, leaving enough room for the other man to pull back-- but all that happened was that Sam sucked in a sharp breath and pressed closer to Steve. The taste of honey was thick on Steve’s tongue, but Sam... Sam tasted of honey and the Starburst he’d been eating all night, his mouth hot against Steve’s. When Steve eased his tongue past Sam’s lips, licking his way into a deeper kiss, Sam knew there was no question left to answer.  
  
    “St-- okay. Wait. Fuck.” Steve was pulling back, his lips kiss-bitten and pink. Sam was breathing a little heavily, the alcohol making his head swim pleasantly. He wanted more. He wanted Steve’s lips again, wanted his hands on him, wanted--  
“ _Fuck,_ Sam. I ... we shouldn’t have...”  
  
Sam felt as though he’d been slapped. “What?”  
  
    “No-- no no, not like that. Sam. That was amazing. It’s just... hell, I want you. Real bad. But not like... this.” Steve gestured to the empty liquor bottle on the floor, and the half-empty one standing precariously on the edge of the nightstand. They were drunk. Sam let out a frustrated sigh, knowing Steve was right.  
  
    “Okay. You’re right.”  
  
    “Ain’t I always?”  
  
    “Shut the fuck up, Rogers.” Sam moved to go get a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and cringed. “ _Goddammit_ , I’m hard. Ow.”  
  
    “Same here,” Steve muttered, shifting awkwardly on the bed. He grinned. “Well, there’s a perfectly good shower. We take the edge off-- seperately -- and watch cruddy movies until we pass out?”  
  
    “Ah... yeah, sure.”  
  
Steve got up and made his way over to Sam, tilting his head up slightly. Sam, taking the hint, leaned down to kiss him, slow and hot.  
“Happy New Year,” he murmured against Steve’s lips.  
  


* * *

There were worse ways to start off the first morning of the new year than slowly working himself onto Steve’s dick, Sam thought.  
  
    “Sam, how-- _fuck_ ,” Steve rasped, his hands gripping Sam’s hips as the other man straddled him. “ _How,”_ he started again, “the fuck are you doing th-- _god--”_  
  
    “I never... skip... leg day,” Sam said breathlessly, a tiny frown on his face as he adjusted to the stretch. Steve had spent what felt like hours slowly kissing, licking, and opening Sam up, to the point where he’d all but _demanded_ to be fucked.  
  
Steve would usually have retorted with a smartass comment, but Sam gave an cautious, experimental roll of his hips, groaning low with pleasure. Steve was rather preoccupied from there on out.  
  
  
  
  
The new year is for learning new things. Sam learned that one of his new favourite things was riding Steve until they were both trembling and moaning and swearing and grabbing mindlessly at each other--  
  
\--Steve learned that the crush he’d been harbouring on Sam was a lot bigger than he thought, and... in fact, on their third go (January 2, 3:18am), Sam’s back arched, he sighed Steve’s name like a prayer, and Steve realized he loved him.  
  
    “Excellent choice,” Sam would say later when Steve quietly murmured it into his ear. “I’m very lovable.”  
  
He laughed breathlessly as Steve kissed down his neck. “Okay, _okay_ , I love you too. Christ, Rogers...”  
  
  
They didn’t drink any more of that awful honey whiskey, but their kisses were still sweet, still intoxicating.  
  



End file.
